


The Sojourn

by barbitone



Series: Voltron Fanfiction [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lotor (Voltron), Cabin Fic, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Lotor is Lotor, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Sharing Body Heat, Top Shiro (Voltron), Unknown Identity, cabin fic in space, canon AU, mild temperature play, the journey, trapped in a blizzard, what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 04:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16010387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone
Summary: When Shiro escapes from the Galra for a second time and crash lands on an ice planet, lost and alone, it’s not rebels who find him. Instead he finds himself on a defunct ship that belongs to a Galra named Lotor.Retelling of The Journey, cabin fic in space





	The Sojourn

**Author's Note:**

> Technically the first fic I started writing in the fandom, right around the time I watched The Journey. I fell in love with Voltron at the exact moment Lotor first took off his helmet in Season 3, but The Journey is what really sealed that love into an enduring obsession lol. 
> 
> Huge shoutout to [Lutz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lutz) for beta-ing and wrangling all my commas! 
> 
> Anyway- hope you enjoy the fic!
> 
> Sojourn n.  
> A temporary stay

 

* * *

 

The first thing Shiro became aware of was the ringing in his ears, not steady but coming in slow pulses in tune with the rhythm of his breathing. The second was the pain- first in his head, then his arm, then everywhere else. It washed over him slowly, bringing with it a wave of nausea that Shiro fought back with gritted teeth. It was hard to think, harder to move. The last thing he remembered was- he wasn’t sure.

Snippets of memories came to him in no particular order- a match in the gladiator ring, a disembodied laugh, a castle hurtling through a portal, sitting in the cockpit of the Black Lion. He remembered Zarkon’s ship shutting down as they uploaded the virus, pieces of the fight against Zarkon himself. Then nothing.

Shiro opened his eyes. The room he found himself in was bathed in a soft purple glow, the wall panels decorated with Galra runes. There were sharp implements arranged around the walls, equipment he had no name for.

His breath came faster as a jolt of adrenaline flooded through him and his thoughts shattered into pure panic. He struggled to run but he couldn’t move so he shut his eyes instead, focused on his breathing. A beat passed as he forced himself to calm, shutting his thoughts away into the back of his mind, something to be examined later. After.

He took stock of the situation, one step at a time. He was alone, at least for now, and he couldn’t hear any sounds coming from outside the room. He was lying on something cold and hard, restrained with metal shackles at his wrists and ankles. Experimentally he tried turning on his Galra arm and was surprised to see it start glowing with a soft hum. He yanked hard against the cuff and it ripped open with a metallic screech. Shiro didn’t waste any time before repeating the procedure on his other restraints. He stood and immediately had to grab hold of the table, legs trembling as they were forced to hold up his weight. His mind was swimming with nausea and dizziness and pain.

Shiro grabbed at his head in the futile hopes that pressure might calm some of the pain and startled at the feel of his hair. It was to his shoulders now- how long had he been a captive here? Why couldn’t he remember?

He nearly threw up then, that faint panicked voice rising up again to scream in horror somewhere inside him. He took a deep steadying breath, then another. One thing at a time. He’d worry about what had happened to him after he escaped. All he had to do now was take a step, and then another, and another. The door opened at his touch and a wave of wrongness rose within him that he couldn’t shake.

The halls were empty, glowing with that ubiquitous purple light. Shiro chose a direction at random and started walking. He kept close to the walls, hoping the bulkheads would give him some cover if he came across sentries or Galra soldiers. With every step he took the wrongness only intensified. The ship was silent, empty. Not even the faint sounds of footsteps could be heard echoing down the halls in the distance.

Shiro gritted his teeth and kept walking. He was too dizzy and too weak to properly tell time or distance, all he knew was that he’d walked for a long time, following vague intuitions whenever he had to make a choice about what hallway to go down. Eventually he came to the unmistakable doors of a hangar. He pressed his ear to the metal, hoping to get an idea about what he was walking into, but he heard nothing. There was little else to do, he steeled himself and activated the panel to open the door.

The room was empty, lined with row upon row of Galra fighter ships, their sharp edges gleaming dangerously in the artificial light. Where was everyone? Was this some sort of trick, or Galra mind-game? Was he being allowed to believe he was going to escape only to be dragged back to the torture chamber at the last moment, his spirit broken?

He pressed his lips together. It didn’t matter. Now was not the time to second guess himself. There was only one thing he could do, and that was try.

Stealing a fighter was just as suspiciously easy as everything else had been and within minutes he was flying away from the cruiser. It was almost a relief when it opened fire, another burst of adrenaline giving his exhausted body the strength to persevere. He managed to evade the first barrage, his empty stomach doing flips as he rolled the fighter. He checked the sensors and saw there was some sort of planet surrounded by an asteroid field up ahead. 

Gritting his teeth, Shiro turned his fighter towards the planet and hit the throttle. The asteroid field was his chance to lose the cruiser and make a clean getaway. He’d made it into the field by the time the cruiser launched its second assault, firing blindly in his general direction. Asteroids exploded around him into showers of sharp-edged debris, pinging against the hull like hail on a tin roof. The fighter lit up with red warning signs and screeching proximity alarms, it was shaking so hard he worried it was about to come apart at the seams.

Shiro’s back was slick with sweat, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. There was a flashing icon on the center console, something about hull integrity but he couldn’t make out the rest.

He banked left to avoid an asteroid and an explosion rocked his fighter as the cruiser’s lasers connected with the small ship, blowing out one of his engines. The controls seized up. He was falling towards the planet’s surface, the fighter screaming alarms at him as it entered the atmosphere. Shiro gritted his teeth as he gripped the controls, trying to pull himself out of a death spiral as the ship hurtled towards the white shard of a planet. 

Was the Galra cruiser still in pursuit? The sensors were overloaded, there was no way to tell. There was a blast and a sharp jolt as the other engine overheated and ruptured. He gasped, pressing desperately at the eject button that refused to respond. The g-forces were too strong, he felt darkness closing in on him- and then he was crashing to the surface.

 

* * *

 

He came to shivering, buried to the waist in snow and still strapped into the pilot’s seat. He blinked slowly, ears ringing. It was so cold that his breath was coming out in puffy clouds of vapor. He stared upwards, squinting as he tried to see if the Galra cruiser was somewhere in orbit, looking for him. There was no sign of them. There was nothing but snowflakes, or maybe they were ashes, drifting down out of the sky while a large piece of ragged white cloth fluttered above.

It took him a long moment to realize it was the remains of the parachute strapped to his seat. He felt sluggish, cold. Maybe he was in shock. He was surrounded by the rubble of his stolen fighter, metal shards hissing as they cooled rapidly. Something exploded off to the side, showering him in sparks. Shiro flinched, his trance broken. He had to keep moving. 

He struggled out of his restraints, wincing as he used his Galra arm to rip through a jammed strap, the exertion almost too much for his abused muscles. His whole body was one big ache and now that he was standing it was harder to breathe. Maybe he’d bruised his ribs, or worse. There wasn’t much he could do about it, so he tried planning his next steps instead. Shiro briefly considered searching through the rubble before he thought better of it. There was unlikely to be anything useful that had survived the crash, and if there was, it may be marked with trackers. He needed to get away from the wreckage in case the Galra came looking for him. Most of all, he needed to find shelter as soon as possible.

He used a sharp bit of metal to cut down the remains of the parachute, wrapping it around himself like a makeshift shawl. It didn’t do much to keep out the cold, but it was better than just his prison jumpsuit and ratty shirt. The landscape was equally stark in all directions so Shiro picked one at random and started walking. Within minutes he was soaked up to mid-thigh, shivering so hard it was difficult to walk in a straight line. His toes grew numb, the loss of sensation slowly traveling up his body until all he could feel was the harsh frigid air ripping at the inside of his throat and lungs.

Hopelessness started uncurling within him like a beast that threatened to devour him. What was the point of it all? He was marooned on an ice planet while the Galra searched for him. There was no way for him to escape this- he’d be dead soon one way or another.

Shiro tried thinking of the team to motivate himself, of the good times they’d spent in the castle together. He needed to get back to them, they needed him to be the leader, the Black Paladin. But the warm memories were so far away. All he could think about was pain and darkness instead- Haggar, looking down at him while dark purple liquid bubbled ominously in a tank behind her. A gladiator’s face staring sightlessly as Shiro dropped a blood-stained sword. Mysterious bits of memories screamed through him with no context and he didn’t know if he was the victim or the monster. He couldn’t take it anymore. He tried to think of nothing instead.

Walking in a daze, he didn’t realize his shivering had stopped or that the sky was getting darker. There was still no shelter in sight and it was impossible to deny that he was growing weaker with every step. He tripped, tumbling down a short slope with a startled yell. He fell hard on his back, breath knocked out of him. Shiro struggled to gasp while his vision swam in and out.

He wasn’t cold anymore. Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew that was bad. Slowly he tried to sit back up, but his muscles gave way at last. He was at the end of his endurance, the last of his energy gone. Maybe if he could rest for a bit that would be the boost he needed to keep going. A small voice inside him was screaming for him to get up, but it was faint and so far away. He was warm now, and all the pain was gone.

 

* * *

 

Shiro jerked awake with a gasp, only to groan and bring his hand up to his throbbing head. He took stock of his surroundings in confusion. He was warm and lying on something soft. The room was dark and lit with a soft purple light that came from a sharp-edged sigil on the door. His eyes widened and he let out a single involuntary sob. Not again. He didn’t have the strength to go through it all again.

But something didn’t add up. He wasn’t tied down, for one. For another, the room he was in didn’t look like a lab or a prison but more like a storage room. He was lying on a narrow cot on top of a thin cushion with a blanket covering him. The walls were lined with sealed metal crates, all marked with Galra writing. He sat up slowly. His head was pounding, his lips were dry and chapped. His mouth tasted foul, and something in the room smelled terrible. Shiro had a feeling it was him.

He stood carefully, wincing as his aching legs took his weight. Shiro moved to the door, listening for a few long minutes before he tried to open it. There was only silence on the other side, so he took a deep breath and activated the panel. The door slid open and Shiro stepped out into the hall.

This was definitely a Galra ship but it looked like something had gone seriously wrong. The hallways were cold and dark, lit only by slowly flashing emergency lights. Some of the wall and ceiling panels were missing, revealing exposed wiring and dimly glowing purple liquid moving sluggishly through conduits. Shiro shivered, ducking under an ominously sparking piece of machinery protruding from the ceiling. He leaned heavily on the wall as he walked, careful to avoid the debris lining the hall. He could hear the wind howling outside, which meant both that the ship was currently somewhere with an atmosphere and that it was smaller than the Galra ships he was familiar with.

A clang in the distance made him flinch in surprise, but it didn’t seem as though anyone was coming for him so he slowly relaxed. There was a faint scent of food cooking coming from up ahead, something spicy and vaguely meat-like. Shiro’s stomach growled pitifully and he gripped at his midsection with his human hand, trying to stifle the sound.

He licked his dry lips instinctively. How long had it been since he’d had a meal? A memory of green goo and his teammates laughing joyfully rose unbidden to his thoughts. Had they survived the battle with Zarkon? Were they looking for him, or had they found someone to replace him? Someone who could maintain their bond with the Black Lion instead of being used as their enemy’s puppet time and time again. Shiro released a shaky breath as he pushed the memory away. He couldn’t allow himself to wallow in self-pity, he needed to stay sharp until he figured out what was going on.

The hallway came to an end and Shiro found himself in front of a small door, yellow light spilling through from where it was cracked open. He leaned closer, listening. He heard a faint bubbling, that clang again- he wasn’t alone.

He considered running. Maybe he could go back to the store room, find some supplies and just- leave. But he was so hungry and so tired of being alone. Whoever was on the other side of the door had found him in the snow, saved his life by bringing him here. Maybe they were rebels who had stolen this ship from the Galra, or agents from the Blade of Marmora. Maybe they could help him get home. Decision made, Shiro pressed the access panel beside the door. When nothing happened he frowned and hit the panel again, a bit more forcefully this time.

A slender hand reached through the crack and wrenched the door open from the other side, the door protesting with a metal-on-metal screech. Shiro jumped back, activating his Galra arm as he fell into a defensive crouch. A tall lean man stood backlit in the doorway, he was undeniably Galra and yet also- not. His features were surprisingly delicate, almost feminine. His long white hair reminded Shiro of Allura’s, and the man’s purple eyes seemed almost warm, not at all like the bright ominous yellow of the Galra soldiers Shiro was familiar with. Rather than armor he was wearing something similar to a well-fitted flight-suit. The fabric was thick and finely made, decorated with angular purple and orange accents. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms.

“It’s broken,” the stranger said by way of greeting, motioning towards the panel beside the door. He spoke slowly with a distinct aristocratic drawl as he looked Shiro up and down, clearly unimpressed.

Shiro stared back, his instincts yelling at him to run or fight. His breath came faster as he considered his options. The odds were definitely not in his favor, if it came down to a fight in his current condition he was almost guaranteed to lose. He backed up a step, nervous sweat beading up on his brow.

“Is that really necessary?” the man asked, eyes flicking to Shiro’s arm.

“That depends,” Shiro said coldly. “Who are you? Why did you bring me here?”

“I am a fugitive of the Galra empire, much like yourself,” the man said, inspecting his fingernails in a show of nonchalance. Shiro could see the tension in the set of his shoulders, the careful placement of his feet. The man was a fighter and he was just as ill-at-ease as Shiro was, only hiding it better. “I crash-landed on this rock a movement ago, imagine my surprise when I came across you in the snow, Champion.”

Shiro flinched at the old title and the flashbacks that ran through his mind. “How do you-”

“The gladiator fights are a popular Galra pastime,” the man said, looking up at him. “They’re broadcast even to the far reaches of the Empire, which is where I was exiled at the time of your meteoric rise through the arena. I say this only to assure you- I understand you are quite formidable, Champion, and I’d prefer to avoid a fight.”

Was this some sort of mind game? A setup so the Galra could get intel from him? Their previous efforts had failed so maybe they’d staged all this and picked a jailor Shiro would be more inclined to trust. The man did seem genuine, but for all Shiro knew they were in some kind of artificial chamber back on the Galra prison ship. Shiro backed up another step. “Fine. Then you won’t mind showing me the way out." 

The stranger’s eyes widened and he let out a surprised laugh. It was not an entirely unpleasant sound, though Shiro couldn’t help feeling he was the butt of some joke.

“Oh,” the stranger said, quieting down, “you were serious?” 

“Yes.”

“Would you like to eat first, or proceed straight towards certain death?” The Galra waited a beat but Shiro stayed silent. “Very well, Champion. I suppose there’s no sense in wasting any time. There’s an exit back the way you came.”  
  
“Lead the way,” Shiro said, backing up to the wall to give the man a wide berth while he passed.

The Galra made no further protests, just walked past him and down the hallway. Shiro followed a few steps behind, careful to stay out of the stranger’s reach. He made no aggressive moves and seemed generally at ease even with Shiro at his back. They passed the room Shiro had woken up in and kept walking, the howling wind getting louder with each step until they finally reached a tall hatch set into the wall of the ship. 

“Here we are,” the stranger said as he moved to open the hatch. “Freedom awaits.”

The door exploded outwards and Shiro gasped as a screaming blast of cold air carrying tiny shards of ice barreled into him, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. He stumbled backwards with the force of it. The other man had braced himself, clearly knowing what would be on the other side of the door. His expression was bland as he watched Shiro take in the sight of the furious ice storm raging outside.

“Well?” the man yelled over the din. “Aren’t you going? Or have you changed your mind?”

Just a second’s worth of standing next to the open door was enough for Shiro’s body to start going numb and shake from the cold. His joints ached in protest and his hair whipped painfully against his face. It was dark but he was still able to make out a large shard of ice flying past, buffeted by the gale. It hit the ground and shattered just outside, pelting him with a fresh shower of sharp debris.

He knew in his gut this was no simulation- he’d die if he went out there. Another blast of wind blew in through the hatch, throwing him backwards. He grunted as his back hit the wall of the corridor while the Galra just watched impassively for another long moment before he turned to close the door once again. He had to brace his foot against the wall to get the leverage he needed but finally the hatch slammed shut with a satisfying clang. Instantly they were bathed in silence. The absence of piercing wind felt like a kind of warmth and Shiro shivered as feeling returned to his body.

“How about some dinner?” the stranger asked before turning and walking away.

Shiro stared at the hatch for a long moment before following. He was trapped with a Galra stranger on an ice planet in the middle of a blizzard. If the Galra decided to kill him he was in no condition to fight back, had no hope of defeating him. He had no way of calling for help, no way to even try to get back to the other Paladins. He should have been worried, or angry, or even scared, but oddly enough he felt a sense of peace settle over him. Struggling was pointless, running was impossible. There was nothing to be done, he could allow himself to set down his responsibilities, his duties. It felt strangely restful, if only for a little while. Guilt washed over and through him, until he felt only a calm emptiness inside.

He followed the Galra back to the room with the broken access panel. It turned out to be a small mess-hall that could easily accommodate fifteen people or so, but no more. It was in total disarray, furniture knocked over or twisted out of recognition. Appliances stood in various states of disassembly and there were empty rations packets strewn about in the corners.

“What happened here?” Shiro asked. 

“A very unpleasant crash-landing and a near total loss of power,” the stranger replied. “On a related note- what are the chances you happen to be a genius engineer?”

“Zero,” Shiro answered.

“Pity,” the stranger said with an ironic quirk to his lips. He was standing over the only upright table in the room where he’d fashioned a makeshift hot plate out of some metal beams and battery coils he must have taken out of one of the mess-hall machines. The coils were glowing red hot underneath a bubbling pot, the source of the savory smell. “I believe it’s ready.” He dipped a cup into the pot, drawing up a portion of stew and setting it down on the table before Shiro. 

“What is this?” Shiro asked, squinting at the cup dubiously. 

“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the foreseeable future.”

“How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?” Shiro asked. The stew smelled alright, but it had an odd green tinge to it and an oily sheen on the surface that didn’t inspire a lot of confidence.

“I know nothing of your species’ physiology,” the Galra said, filling a second cup. “And I’ve never seen a beast such as this before. It may very well be poisonous, to you as well as to me. Alas, there isn’t anything else.”

“Hm,” Shiro said. If he didn’t have something to eat soon, it probably wouldn’t matter either way. He carefully took a sip. At first he could barely even taste the stew for the relief of having something warm to fill his aching stomach. He’d nearly finished the cup before the taste finally registered, something a bit spicy like paprika with a hearty meaty taste like a chicken broth. There were chunks of gray meat with a consistency similar to overcooked shrimp floating in the broth that weren’t entirely unpleasant.

“Easy,” the other man said. “Don’t make yourself ill. There is plenty in the pot, and the rest of the beast is frozen in the hold.”

Shiro forced himself to slow down as he shot a furtive glance at the Galra. He seemed annoyed with his meal, his lips pinched in disapproval. Maybe he was used to a higher quality of sustenance, or maybe the food was particularly offensive to Galra taste-buds. Despite his grimace, he looked quite handsome in the soft glow of the battery coils. Shiro looked away hastily, shoving the thought to the back of his mind.

“What’s your name?” he asked once he was on his third portion and most of his hunger had been sated. 

The Galra looked up and their eyes met for a long moment. “My name is Lotor,” he said cautiously, as though expecting Shiro to somehow use that information against him.

“I’m Shiro,” Shiro replied, holding out his hand.

Lotor looked down at the offered hand, eyebrows drawing down. “What am I meant to do with that?”

“It’s a human greeting,” Shiro explained. “A handshake.”

Lotor reached over cautiously to take Shiro’s hand in his own. His palm was dry and calloused, his skin unnaturally warm. It was Shiro’s first friendly touch in- well, he wasn’t sure. Judging by the length of his hair, a long time.

“This seems more like a hand-hold than a hand-shake,” Lotor said at last, and Shiro realized he’d been lost in the moment. He hastily let go, blushing, and they finished their meal in silence.

“Well,” Lotor said. “You smell like death, Shiro,” he continued bluntly, “and I’ve reached the limits of my endurance. You’ll have to bathe, and soon.”

Shiro couldn’t help but break out into a grin. The prospect of being clean on top of fed was too much. If it weren’t for a few obvious factors, he would have thought he was in heaven. “No objections here,” he said.

“Good. Follow me.”

Lotor grabbed a flashlight that looked a bit like a lantern before he led Shiro through the ship, taking them past a small science lab, an engineering bay, a section of crew quarters and a rack of outdated-looking Galra drones. The farther they got from the mess hall the colder it got, until Shiro could see his own breath as little clouds of vapor.

“I’ve never seen a Galra ship like this one before,” Shiro said.

“It’s an exploration class vessel,” Lotor explained, “meant for long expeditions. Light on weapons, high in defense and stealth. They were never manufactured in large quantities, my people have always preferred to expand through conquest. This craft is likely older than the current Empire.”

Shiro filed that information away, wondering how Lotor had managed to get his hands on such a rare ship. There was definitely more to him than he was saying but Shiro wasn’t going to press his luck. For the time being Lotor and his resources were Shiro’s only lifeline and he wasn’t going to jeopardize that if he could help it.

“Here we are,” Lotor said as he opened the door of a cargo bay.

Shiro squinted as he tried to see into the darkness. He could just make out a banged up engine, marked by yawning holes where parts were missing and bristling with cables, batteries, and other unidentifiable bits of equipment hooked crudely into it.

“This engine is beyond repair,” Lotor was saying, “but I managed to get it working just well enough to melt the ice and power the pump. The hose is here,” he pointed at an L-shaped pipe protruding from the engine, “and here are the controls.”

As Lotor kept talking it dawned on Shiro that he’d built a makeshift shower. With hot water!

“Don’t leave it running for more than half a varga, or the engine will overheat and possibly explode. And _please-_ ” Lotor paused for emphasis, “don’t even _think_ of putting your prison rags back on, just toss them away somewhere I won’t have to smell them anymore. I’ve set out some garments that may fit you, over there.” He waved vaguely towards a corroded and twisted hunk of metal off to the side which held a stack of folded up clothing. “I’ll leave you to it,” Lotor said finally, setting the lantern on the ground before making his way out. The door to the room slid shut with a definitive clang, leaving Shiro alone.

He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. He wouldn’t get any warmer standing around so he turned on the shower. There was a loud groaning of metal and a section of the engine started rotating. As the metal heated up it began to glow red and, after a few loud clunks, the L-pipe shook as water poured out, draining away into a crude hole cut into the floor. It was cold at first, but soon enough the water was steaming. Shiro didn’t hesitate to throw off his clothes and step under the spray, nearly groaning with pleasure. The water was practically scalding, making all of his cuts and scrapes sting painfully. But that minor unpleasantness was nothing compared to the pure bliss of the warmth, the promise of being clean.

Shiro felt exposed and vulnerable standing naked, wet, and unarmed in the cavernous engine room and he tried his best to hurry, washing with a chunk of soap that had been lying on the floor. He was startled by the length of his hair all over again and every so often his fingers found a new and unfamiliar scar, a line of rough tissue over his ribs, a puckered circle under his collarbone. He was sick at the thought of what had been done to him, needing equally to know and to never find out. If he closed his eyes and stood very still he could almost pretend he was home, back on Earth before any of this had happened.

But the metal grate underneath his feet, the clunky whining of the defunct engine, the feeling of his own uncharacteristically long wet hair slipping over his back and neck brought him back to reality. His body was shaking and it took him a long confused moment to realize it was because he was sobbing. He let himself mourn for a few long minutes, for his former life, his former self, then forced himself to stand up straight and turn off the water.

The cold air was shocking and he hurried through drying himself and looking through the clothing Lotor had left for him. Shiro put on some underclothes, a jumpsuit much like the Galra’s own and a pair of boots. It was an odd fit, tight in the shoulders and waist, a bit too long at the cuffs, but it was warm and comfortable despite it all. He nearly wept again at the feeling of being clean, of wearing fresh clothing. Being a Galra prisoner was like being a caged animal, fighting for pure survival in every moment. The further away he got from that lab, the more he was starting to feel fully human again. It was a sensation too powerful for words and he found himself standing in the dark, holding his hand over his wildly beating heart as he tried to steady himself.

When he was feeling more calm he picked up the lantern and took a quick look around the cargo bay, hoping to find some clues about the ship or Lotor himself, or anything else that might be useful. It was empty except for junk, random debris, and a few crates full of unidentifiable engine parts that stood open in one of the corners. Shiro tossed his old prison clothes into a metal box that was full of oily rags and turned to leave. It was far too cold to stay in the cargo bay for much longer and he was already thinking longingly of the store-room with the cot and the blanket.

Out in the corridor he nearly jumped when he unexpectedly came face to face with Lotor, the Galra’s eyes seeming to glow purple in the darkness.

“I was just coming to see what was keeping you,” Lotor said. Shiro couldn’t tell if he was apologetic over startling him, or just annoyed.

“I’m finished,” Shiro said unnecessarily.

“Yes,” Lotor said, his eyes running over Shiro’s body consideringly. “I’m pleased to see these fit you.”

“Thank you,” Shiro said. The gratitude he felt in that moment was so overwhelming it left him a bit dizzy and he had to fight not to let it show. He couldn’t allow himself to let down his guard. He didn’t really know if Lotor was trustworthy or what his ultimate intentions were. Lotor may have saved his life, fed him, bathed him, and clothed him- but they weren’t friends, they weren’t even necessarily allies.

“Would you like to eat again, or would you prefer to rest right away?” Lotor asked. 

Shiro smiled at the way the question encompassed all his greatest desires in that moment. “I think I’d rather sleep, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Of course,” Lotor said with a small nod. “I’ll show you to your quarters.” 

“Don’t worry,” Shiro said, “I remember the way back.”

Lotor frowned, vaguely horrified. “The store room?” he asked. “No- I only put you there for the time being. So if you proved dangerous I wouldn’t have to carry your body very far to the hatch. Not to mention sullying good sheets with the stink and the mess. Luckily that eventuality has been averted.”

Shiro stared at Lotor as he talked, a bit shocked at the nonchalant way he was explaining his contingency plan to kill Shiro and throw him out into the blizzard. He decided he appreciated the honesty, no matter how disturbing it was.

“Come,” Lotor said, and Shiro followed him back to the main section of the ship. The quarters Lotor brought him to were surprisingly luxurious, complete with an en suite bathroom that was fully functional other than the lack of hot water.

“Sleep well,” Lotor said before leaving.

Shiro only had the strength to pull off his boots before climbing into the wide bed and falling into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know how long he spent doing little besides eating and sleeping. Being trapped in a ship brought with it a familiar disorientation about the passage of time and, without a clock, the only way he even knew if it was day or night was by how Lotor greeted him when they happened to run into each other in the halls. Maybe a few days passed, maybe a week, but every time Shiro woke he never knew just how long he’d spent sleeping. It was clear his body needed the rest after whatever the Galra had been doing to him. He still couldn’t remember any of it, but sometimes he woke in a cold sweat, heart racing as he stared up at the ceiling, terrified of something he couldn’t explain. 

As the exhaustion slowly faded he found himself falling into old worries like an overturned cart being righted and resuming its way along a deeply rutted track. How was the Voltron team doing? Were they well? Had Keith taken up his role as the pilot of the Black Lion and had they found someone to take his place on Red? Could they form Voltron or were they fighting a losing battle somewhere, where it was only a matter of time before any of them got seriously hurt or worse? And, somewhere in a more fearful and childish part of himself that he tried so hard to stifle, he wondered if they were still looking for him or if they’d given him up for dead.

There was no use worrying about something he couldn’t change. Every trip outside his quarters served as another reminder that he was trapped on a non-functional ship crashed on a planet that was barely more than a shard of ice. He tried to focus his thoughts on problems closer to home and found himself wondering more and more about his host. He couldn’t help but be a little wary of Lotor’s hospitality and his motives.

Shiro took to wandering the ship before meals, cautiously poking around in drawers and storage spaces. It felt illicit at worst, ungrateful at best, but it also helped put his mind at ease. He found a Galra-made switchblade in a cabinet in his room, the blade about as long as his palm and wickedly sharp. He thought about trying to cut his hair back into his usual style and stood in his bathroom for nearly half an hour staring at himself in the mirror. The long hair was uncomfortable, an upsetting ever-present reminder of the time he’d lost. It forced him to think about what had happened to him whenever it fell over his eyes or tickled the back of his neck. Maybe cutting it back to its old style could help him feel more like his old self.

There was no way he could do it neatly on his own, and finally a bit of vanity he hadn’t realized he still possessed stopped him from the attempt. Shiro tied his hair back into a rough knot instead, then used the switchblade to carefully shave his stubble before stowing the knife in the pocket of his borrowed flight suit. Somehow it made him feel safer than his Galra arm, despite being an obviously inferior weapon. It was a comforting weight in his pocket, a talisman and a reminder that he wasn’t a prisoner any more. He often found himself keeping his fingers loosely wrapped around it as he explored the ship.

One day he nearly had a heart attack when he opened a door to find a lab, much like the one he’d woken up in not so long ago. After managing to calm down he noticed the equipment was completely different and covered in a thick layer of dust besides. He still couldn’t bring himself to walk inside, dark memories overwhelming him until he found himself with his back pressed tightly against the wall of the corridor, hyperventilating as he stared at the now-closed door.

Most of the rooms were not so ominous. Most opened to him and were clearly unused or ransacked for supplies or equipment. Most- but not all. There was a door that remained stubbornly locked no matter how hard Shiro tried to open it. That uncertainty was enough to drive a sharp wedge of anxiety through him. He tried to convince himself that maybe the door was broken and the room was just as innocent as all the others had been.

The problem was that it was right across the hall from Shiro’s own quarters and he came face to face with it every time he left his rooms. Was Lotor hiding something from him? And if so- why in a place that was so close to where Shiro slept? Was he taunting him in some sort of elaborate mind game? Shiro knew those thoughts were bordering on crazy; Lotor hadn’t given him any reason to distrust him. And yet he felt like bluebeard’s wife, slowly going mad about a forbidden room, her fears justified even though she didn’t know it yet.

After another unsuccessful attempt at getting into the locked room, Shiro walked down to the mess hall, equal parts frustrated and dispirited.

“Good evening,” Lotor said, looking up from his seat at one of the tables. He’d tidied up the mess hall at some point, setting up a few more tables and chairs beside the workstation with the perpetually simmering stew. The by-now familiar smell was comforting, and grabbing a mug to use as both ladle and bowl was simply routine.

“Hello,” Shiro said, sitting down across from Lotor. They hadn’t said more than a handful words to each other since Shiro had first woken up on the ship. Lotor always seemed preoccupied whenever Shiro saw him, striding down the hallways as though he was late for an important meeting.

Shiro would never admit it out loud, but there was something intimidating about him, something almost regal that made him seem unapproachable. This was only the second time he’d ever seen Lotor sitting down, and in that moment he seemed somehow softer than usual. Maybe it was the intimate atmosphere of the mess hall, the room dark except for the lantern on the table and the dim glow of the battery coils under the bubbling pot. Maybe it was the slump in Lotor’s shoulders, so different from his usual upright posture that it made him seem smaller, more vulnerable.

“How are you feeling?” Lotor asked politely. His hair was pulled back into a braid, the top half of his flight suit tied around his waist, leaving him in a black tank top that revealed his muscular arms and wide shoulders. He had thin scars criss-crossing his skin, lines of white that stood out even in the dim light. There was a smudge of grease on his forehead and dark circles under his eyes.

“I’m doing well,” Shiro said. “And you?”  
  
“As well as can be expected,” Lotor answered cryptically. He raised his mug to his lips and Shiro’s eyes widened when he saw the state of the other man’s hands. His fingers were peppered with cuts and burns, his knuckles scraped raw and scabbed over. Lotor saw him staring and frowned. “Engineering isn’t my strong suit,” he said, “but I’m making progress, however slow.”

“I’m sure you’re doing a great job,” Shiro said.

Lotor seemed a little startled at the praise, his eyebrows drawing down as though he wasn’t quite sure what the proper reaction was. “Thank you,” he settled on at last, the words awkward in his mouth.

Shiro hid his smile behind his soup mug, oddly pleased.

“I notice you’ve been exploring the ship,” Lotor said, bland and perfectly neutral.

Shiro paused, making a show of chewing as he thought about what to say in response. He still didn’t really know what to make of Lotor. Was this his way of warning Shiro to stop snooping around, or was it just an attempt at conversation with a stranger. 

“Yes,” Shiro said.

“Find anything interesting?” Lotor asked. 

“A few things,” Shiro said carefully. Lotor didn’t seem angry or worried, if anything he looked exhausted, maybe a little bored. If he was upset at Shiro for exploring the ship, wouldn’t he say something? He was well within his rights to tell Shiro that certain areas were off limits. Something in his gut was telling him to take a chance on being honest; if nothing else Lotor’s reaction would give him a clue about what to do next.

“Most of all, I’m curious about the locked room,” he said, aiming to keep his tone casual. “The one across the hall from the quarters you’ve given me.”

“That room is private,” Lotor said after a long pause, voice still unreadable. “But if it would put your mind at ease, I can show you inside.” Lotor set his cup aside and stood, staring at Shiro expectantly.

Shiro finished his soup in a few huge gulps and stood as well, a little surprised at the speed with which this was happening.

The hallways were dark, lit only by slowly pulsing emergency lights on the floor and the occasional dangerously sparking torn ceiling panel. Lotor was just a dark form ahead of him, his shadow a constantly shifting shape against the walls. Shiro felt suddenly as though he was being led into a cave towards a monster waiting patiently to devour him.

His heart started beating faster, his human palm grew sweaty and he tried to calm himself down, breathing slow and deep as they walked. What exactly was he afraid he’d find? Some kind of trap? A room full of bodies? An entire platoon of Galra soldiers waiting to capture him? It all seemed ridiculous, and yet his muscles grew tenser the closer they got to the locked room. 

“Here we are,” Lotor said at last, standing in front of the door. “Ready?” he asked, an odd gleam in his eyes as he pressed on the panel and the door slid open.

It was dark inside, but when Shiro stepped across the threshold lights started powering up in the ceiling and in sconces on the wall. The room was a mirror image of his own quarters, just filled with more odds and ends. An armored space suit was laid out in pieces on the dining table and a cabinet in the corner housed an assortment of engine parts. There was a bed in a niche on the far wall, much like Shiro’s own but with considerably more blankets and richly embroidered pillows strewn about haphazardly, making it look more like a nest. It was surrounded by precariously balanced stacks of books and papers, a few lantern style flashlights and- inexplicably, a large ornate vase that wouldn’t look out of place in a palace. The vase was full to the brim with brightly colored stones.

“It’s- a bedroom,” Shiro said dumbly. “Your bedroom?” All his greatest fears of the past few days suddenly fell away, leaving him light-headed as he stood in the middle of the perfectly normal room. Of course it’d been locked, he would have done the same if it were his bedroom and his spaceship that had taken on an unexpected and strange guest. 

Behind him, Lotor started laughing. It was a full-throated sound, pleasant as it rang through the room.

“Hey-” Shiro said, turning around. It was hard to hold his glare in the face of Lotor’s laughter and soon Shiro was smiling too. 

“The look on your face-” Lotor gasped out. “It’s as if you were expecting Zarkon himself to jump out at you!”

Shiro looked away sheepishly, heat rising to his cheeks. If he was honest with himself, that fear had been lurking somewhere at the back of his mind too.

Lotor’s laughter faded away, though his face was still lit with a wide smile. It made him look younger, less exhausted. Shiro felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering happier times with his team. He hoped they had cause to smile the way Lotor was now, openly and like he had no care in the world.

Lotor must have noticed the shift in his mood because he carefully put his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. It was warm through the fabric of Shiro’s jumpsuit, the friendly touch oddly comforting.

“Come,” Lotor said, “let me show you something truly interesting.” He led Shiro a short way up to the end of the hall. The wall there was decorated with a metal inset of an oddly shaped planet surrounded by thin concentric circles. There were other objects on the rings, ships and stars and satellites orbiting the planet.

“This is Daibazaal,” Lotor explained, “the Galra homeworld.” He reached out to press on the image of the planet, pushing it in a few millimeters with a click. A crack appeared down the center of the design and a hidden door slid open, revealing a staircase leading up into darkness.

Lotor walked in confidently while Shiro followed more slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The door slid shut after him with a soft hiss. It was colder up here than it had been in the corridor and he shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. He was careful walking up the stairs, and within moments a soft bluish-green glow filled the room. His mouth dropped open, eyes wide as he took in the sight before him.

They were in the cockpit of the ship, the ceiling a clear dome, giving him a perfect view of their surroundings. It was night-time on the planet and perfect tiny snowflakes floated down from the sky. Above them was a fantastic vista of glowing lights, like airy ribbons undulating in the heavens. It reminded Shiro of pictures he’d seen of the northern lights, but these seemed more vivid, the colors more varied. As he watched, one green ribbon faded away and a red one started to appear. Snow was piled up against the ship in uneven drifts and it sparkled brightly, reflecting the colors of the sky.

Lotor stood in front of him between the pilot’s and co-pilot’s seats, arms resting on the backs of the chairs as he stared upwards, just as captivated as Shiro was.

“Wow,” Shiro said quietly, his voice breaking the ethereal hush of the room. “What are they?”

“With my luck, radioactive,” Lotor said dryly. “But they’re quite lovely, at least,” he said as he sat in the pilot’s chair. Shiro only noticed the blanket on the seat when Lotor wrapped it around himself, and then he saw the second blanket on the co-pilot’s chair. He hoped he wasn’t misinterpreting the implicit invitation when he sat down in the other chair and pulled the blanket over his knees.

Lotor rummaged around in a crate next to him and took out a corked glass bottle. He pulled it open easily and took a deep swig before offering it to Shiro.

“What is this?”

Lotor raised an eyebrow. “Ethyl alcohol,” he said, as though it should have been perfectly obvious. “I would have offered you some sooner, but I thought it prudent to wait until you were reasonably certain I wasn’t planning on poisoning you.”

“Thanks,” Shiro said with a startled laugh and took the bottle. He sniffed it carefully, eyes watering from the fumes. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but after everything he’d been through he damn well deserved a drink. He took a careful sip to make sure it wasn’t terrible, and then a larger mouthful. He hadn’t had alcohol since his time at the Garrison, but the burn was pleasantly familiar. He took one more drink before handing the bottle back. His tolerance must have been shot or the alien liquor was particularly potent, because he was already starting to feel pleasantly warm, his toes and fingertips growing tingly.

“When I was a boy, I loved to come out and look at the night sky,” Shiro said, looking upwards. “It made me feel like anything was possible. That’s why I became a pilot- all I wanted to do was to go up to the stars.”

Lotor sighed and took a drink. “I spent my childhood on a spaceship, all I wanted was to return to the ground.”

“Lucky us,” Shiro said, “all our dreams came true.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture that encompassed the desolate landscape before them.

Lotor stared at him for a moment in surprise, and then both of them dissolved into laughter. 

“It’s nice to have company again,” Lotor said after they’d quieted. He seemed pensive as he stared at the bottle in his hand. The lights in the sky reflected off his white hair, tinging his skin a warm pinkish hue. For a moment he seemed otherworldly, completely out of place on the ancient ship crash-landed in the middle of nowhere. Shiro couldn’t help feeling there was something more to Lotor, like he’d once had some greater destiny that had since been shattered. Everything about his manner and appearance made it obvious he was more than just a Galra foot soldier, so who was he, really? 

“How did you end up here?” Shiro asked. At a different time, maybe he wouldn’t have risked it. But things seemed warm and easy between them and he had liquid courage running through his veins.

“A conduit overheated and ruptured, blowing out most of my navigational thrusters,” Lotor said.

Shiro wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a deflection or if Lotor had just misunderstood what he’d really been asking. He briefly considered dropping the topic, but he needed to know who it was he was trapped with and if he could trust him.

“No,” Shiro pushed, waving a hand around in a large vague gesture, “I meant, not literally- _here_ , on this planet, just- it’s obvious there’s more to you than you’ve said. You’re a fighter, but not a soldier. You have mechanical knowledge but you’re not an engineer. You have a rare ancient ship but don’t seem to be a scientist, or a scholar. You seem like… you were someone important, maybe, but now you say you’re a fugitive. So- who are you, really? How did you end up here?”

Lotor turned his head to look at him, his gaze piercing as he stared into Shiro’s eyes. “It’s a long story,” he said.

“We have time,” Shiro insisted. He thought Lotor was about to refuse, but instead the Galra sighed and looked away.

“I suppose you’re right.” He tipped his head back, resting it against the back of his chair as he looked up at the stars. He took a long drink before wiping his mouth and setting the bottle down on the ground between them. A few strands of hair had escaped from Lotor’s braid and he tucked them behind one of his pointed ears before dropping his hands down to his lap.

“My father was a high-ranking general,” Lotor began. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully as though afraid he would let slip something he shouldn’t. “When I was a boy I wanted to be just like him. I tried, for a long time. In the end, I wasn’t bloodthirsty enough for him, and he had me exiled to the outskirts of the Empire where I would no longer be an embarrassment.”

Lotor paused, looking off into the distance. He smiled, but there was something bittersweet in it. “In some ways it was a relief,” he said with an ironic laugh. “I was free to find my own way and pursue my own interests. Increasingly I was interested in ending the violence the Galra inflicted on the universe. I was a fool, of course. Eventually Zarkon found out what I was doing and declared me a traitor and an enemy of the Empire. I’ve been running ever since.”

He looked over at Shiro with a self-deprecating smile. His cheeks were flushed. “I suppose that  wasn’t a very long story after all,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said quietly.

“Don’t be,” Lotor answered, regaining some of his characteristically brusque manner. He cleared his throat and looked away. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve suffered, what the whole universe has suffered at the hands of Zarkon and his witch.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the lights dancing above them.

“What will you do, when you get off this planet?” Shiro asked. “Will you keep fighting the Empire?” 

“I’m not entirely certain. I don’t know if anything I’ve done has made a difference, if it still can. And now, with Voltron out there- perhaps I can find a quiet planet to settle down on. Live out the rest of my days in peace.” 

Hearing the word _Voltron_ out loud was a shock, like waking suddenly from a dream. Shiro fought not to let it show on his face. Should he tell Lotor who he was? That he was the Black Paladin, or at least that he had been?  
  
“What about you?” Lotor asked, looking over. “Will you try to return to your homeworld?”

Shiro paused, warring with himself about how much was safe to share. Lotor had revealed a little about himself, and while Shiro was sure he hadn’t lied outright, that didn’t mean he’d been entirely honest either. He’d never hidden the fact that he knew Shiro was a Galra prisoner, and even if he hadn’t seen Shiro’s fights in the arena, the clothing he’d found him in was a dead giveaway. It wouldn’t take much to come to the conclusion that Shiro had no love for the Empire. It would have been easy to tell a story to make it seem like they had common goals, but what reason did Lotor have to lie?

“I-” Shiro started, fully intending to tell the truth about his role in Voltron. At the last second the words stuck in his throat, paranoia welling up in him. It was true that Lotor hadn’t given him any reason to distrust him, but all the same - he was Galra, and Shiro was drunk. His thoughts came slowly and the desire to talk was strong, but he still knew better than to blurt out something he couldn’t take back.

“I don’t know,” Shiro said at last. “I’d like to go home some day. But I also have responsibilities here, people that depend on me.” He kept his statements purposefully vague, watching Lotor carefully for any reaction. Lotor only nodded languidly, eyes heavy-lidded. Maybe he was feeling the effects of the alcohol too. He was holding the bottle, now more than half empty. When he saw Shiro looking he offered it with an easy smile.

Shiro took it on autopilot and Lotor watched him intently as Shiro brought the bottle up to his lips to drink. The atmosphere in the room seemed charged and Shiro found himself blushing. He licked his lips nervously, couldn’t help but notice the way Lotor’s eyes followed the motion. The lights in the sky shifted towards red and the cockpit grew noticeably darker. Shiro felt warm and loose, suddenly unwilling to look away from the way the escaped strands of Lotor’s hair framed his face and brushed his neck, the defined muscles playing just under the skin of his arms and shoulders.

“Are you alright?” Lotor asked, his voice low and a little hoarse. Shiro felt a wave of heat pass through him, arousal rising unbidden. He tried to remind himself about his precarious situation, about the fact that Lotor was still largely an unknown variable. It didn’t make a difference.

This was dangerous.

Shiro straightened up, clearing his throat. “It’s late,” he said, trying to keep his voice even and mostly succeeding. “I think I’m going to get some sleep.” 

“Sleep well,” Lotor said, still smiling. He didn’t move as Shiro stood and straightened his clothes.

“You too,” Shiro said quietly, wishing the circumstances had been different, and made his way back to his bunk.

 

* * *

 

Shiro slept fitfully, his night full of troubled dreams he couldn’t quite remember, and woke with a much milder hangover than he’d been expecting. He lay in bed for a while, enjoying the warmth as he went over his memories of the previous night. He was undoubtedly feeling more relaxed, both about Lotor and in general. Still, he was glad he hadn’t said too much about himself. It was easy to grow too comfortable with a stranger in a situation like this and he had to be careful, keep his wits about him. 

His thoughts flashed back to Lotor, eyes glittering as he watched Shiro, the way the light had played over his soft white hair. He shook his head to clear it, wincing as his headache spiked painfully.

He took a few big gulps of water from a glass he’d left by the bed, wistfully thinking of the last time he’d had honest-to-god coffee, and then stood up to get ready for the day.

First he went back to the cockpit, now empty and full of grayish light. Seeing sunlight, even hidden by dark clouds, was a comfort to the primal part of him that needed to be firmly on the ground, rooted to the natural rhythms of night turning to day and back. It was snowing again, the small perfect snowflakes of the previous night turned to sharp icy chunks, sudden gusts of wind blowing them unpredictably against the glass of the dome. Another blizzard was building strength around them.

Shiro would never had found this place on his own. Did it mean anything that Lotor had showed him the cockpit and given him access to the admittedly dead controls? It seemed like another show of trust and Shiro’s instinct was to return it.

He was surprised to find Lotor in the mess-hall. The other man was cradling his head in his hand as he nursed a cup of stew.

“Good morning,” Shiro smiled.

“And to you,” Lotor said with a wince.

“Hungover?”

Lotor wrinkled his nose in a grimace. “Unfortunately.”

“My commanding officer used to say the best hangover cure was not drinking the night before,” Shiro said as he got his breakfast. “And then he’d make us run laps.”

“Your commanding officer sounds like a monster,” Lotor said, deadpan. Shiro wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a joke, but it made him laugh all the same.

“Maybe I can help you today? With the repairs you’re working on?”

“Do you know how to rewire electromagnetic stabilizers?” Lotor asked, perking up with interest.

“Uh- no. But I know how to hand over tools and I hear I’m good company.”

“I suppose that could be of help,” Lotor said with a small smile.

After breakfast he led Shiro to the engine bay where the remaining almost-working engine dominated the space. Shiro quickly realized he was completely out of his depth with the mechanical aspects of it, the technology at least centuries ahead of Earth. Still, he kept up his promise of passing over tools and keeping Lotor company. It was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon and they fell into easy conversation.

Shiro shared stories from his days at the Garrison, careful not to reveal any information that may be classified. Lotor shared his own stories but they were stilted, full of conspicuous gaps. Being brought up by the Galra couldn’t have been easy, and neither was his life in exile. Many of his memories seemed too painful to talk about. Shiro didn’t push, just let him say what he would without judgement.

It was a struggle not to show his horror when Lotor mentioned certain aspects of his life like they were nothing. He talked about being thrown in the brig for a month as a child when he’d gotten caught stealing extra sweets as if it was just an amusing anecdote. He briefly described how close he’d come to death during his coming of age trial as if it were a point of pride. When he casually mentioned the year he’d spent as a fighter in the arena Shiro couldn’t hold his tongue any longer.

“That seems like a harsh punishment,” he said bitterly. 

“Punishment?” Lotor asked, looking up from where he was fiddling with an open console. He seemed genuinely confused. “Oh,” he said, seeing Shiro’s face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s alright,” Shiro said. “Tell me.”

“Well,” Lotor said, leaning back. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing grease over his face. “The arena used to host honorable combat. It was a Galra right of passage, a way of settling disputes, an avenue for young warriors to prove their mettle and earn their command. There were professional gladiators as well, they were many a child’s personal heroes, including my own. While there were accidents at times, death had never been the end goal. It wasn’t until Sendak rose to power that the arena became a way of executing prisoners.”

Shiro smiled a little. He’d never really thought of the Galra as a people with a history, a culture. Deep down in his heart, he’d only ever seen them as bloodthirsty monsters. “Tell me more,” he said at last, “about how it used to be.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Lotor asked. “This must be bringing up bad memories for you.”

“It’s fine,” Shiro said. “I’d like to know.”

“Alright,” Lotor grinned, and went back to his work as he started talking about the gladiator fights of his childhood. Shiro was captivated and delighted as Lotor described the fights, the characters. It all seemed a bit like professional wrestling with the personas, the outfits, the overwrought storylines. Lotor, as it turned out, had strong opinions on the subject. Shiro even found himself laughing a few times as Lotor lamented lost opportunities and complained about unlikely victories and losses. 

Before he knew it, it was late afternoon and Lotor was stepping back from the engine, smiling thinly as he tapped a tool that looked like a wrench against his thigh.

“I think it’s ready,” he said.

Shiro couldn’t interpret the expression on his face, but if he had to guess, he would have said Lotor seemed worried.

“Are you sure?” Shiro asked carefully.

Lotor turned to him with a tight smile. “There’s only one way to find out.” He walked over to the engine and took a deep breath before opening an access panel. Inside was a handle that reminded Shiro of the Voltron bayards and Lotor gripped it, turning it once with a decisive clang. He stepped back hastily and they both watched with bated breath as the engine started to glow and hum, a central section began to revolve. Mechanical buzzing filled the bay, the overhead lights flickered a few times before powering on fully.

Shiro squinted at the sudden brightness, shielding his face while Lotor laughed, staring around them.

“So I guess that’s a good sign?” Shiro asked. Lotor was grinning widely, cheeks flushed pink and eyes glittering.

“It hasn’t exploded, so I’d consider that promising,” Lotor said. “We’ll have to wait a few vargas for the auxiliary power cells to recharge,” he continued, launching into an explanation of how to get the ship off the planet that completely went over Shiro’s head. He found himself staring as Lotor talked, captivated by his smile, his eyes, his elegant hands gesticulating wildly as he explained something about rewiring the thrusters on the port side of the ship.

“Are you alright?” Lotor asked, pulling Shiro out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Shiro said, smiling. He was going to be able to get back to the Castle of Lions, to Voltron. He was going to be able to go home. “Yeah, I’m great,” he laughed, stepped forward and grabbed Lotor’s shoulders. “You’re amazing!” he said while Lotor stared at him, eyes wide.

He was blushing even harder now, and Shiro suddenly realized how close they were. Lotor licked his lips and Shiro couldn’t look away from the motion, couldn’t help leaning closer. Before he knew what was happening he was pressing forward, sliding his hand to the back of Lotor’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. 

The Galra’s lips were shockingly warm, soft and pliant against his own. Lotor gasped, shivering as Shiro pressed closer, slid his hands into Lotor’s hair. For a few short moments it was bliss, and then he felt Lotor stiffen. He pulled back hastily to see Lotor looking at him, frowning. He was sure he hadn’t imagined the connection between them, the way Lotor had been looking at him, the invitation in his gaze. And yet, clearly something was wrong.

“What is it?” Shiro asked.

“We shouldn’t,” Lotor said quietly, looking away. “You-” he swallowed loudly. “You don’t-”

The engine started clanking loudly and they both startled, looked over at it. The clanging was accelerating, growing louder with each passing second. 

“What the-” Shiro started.

“Fuck!” Lotor exclaimed, rushing over to the engine. He grabbed the handle he’d used to turn it on only to hiss and pull back, cradling his hand to his chest, palm marked by a bright red burn.

“Maybe I can-” Shiro said, taking a step towards him.

“Stay back!” Lotor growled, brows drawn down with anger, or maybe fear. He looked so wild in that moment that Shiro took a step back out of pure shock. Even he could tell that something was seriously wrong now. The air smelled off, like ozone and iron, the clanging had shifted into a high pitched whine that made his head ache.

“Lotor-” he started.

“I said- stay _back_!” Lotor yelled, not even looking at Shiro as he struggled to pull open a panel on a stationary part of the engine. His palms were bleeding, leaving glistening dark marks on the metal. Shiro stared, horrified, unable to move. Sparks ran over the surface of the engine and Lotor jerked back with a sharp cry of pain. There was an ominous rumble, a flash of light, then nothing.

 

* * *

 

Shiro coughed, sitting up. There was a loud ringing in his ears and when he opened his eyes he saw spots. His whole body ached, his face was on fire. The bay was full of acrid smoke but it was dissipating quickly. Why was it so cold? 

His vision slowly cleared and he gasped, not sure what he was looking at. It was dark, but the floor was covered in something white, something glittering. Snow.

The engine was gone, half the room was gone, obliterated. He was staring at a gaping hole in the side of the hangar, the metal edges twisted and melted. The air still smelled of burned metal and the ringing in his ears resolved into the howling of the wind.

“Lotor?” he managed to croak out, only to start coughing. Each cough felt like a burning brand inside his throat and he couldn’t help the tears of agony that rose to his eyes. When the coughing fit settled he forced himself to stand, wincing at the pain in his legs and side. He didn’t have time for this, he needed to find Lotor. He’d been standing next to the engine when it exploded, was he even alive? Shiro frowned, he had to be. He’d find him.

“Lotor!” Shiro cried out. This time he was prepared for the coughing and managed to keep stumbling forward despite it.

He looked out over the desolate landscape before him and took a deep breath before jumping down into the snow. The drop was only a few feet but he skidded forward on the slope, falling with a pained grunt. He was already starting to go numb from the cold but he ignored it. At the back of his mind he knew this was reckless, foolish. But that didn’t matter. He had to find Lotor.

He struggled to stand, activating his Galra arm in an attempt to get a little more light. Visibility was laughably low as the planet was engulfed in another storm, clouds blocking out the faint shine of starlight.

“Lotor!” he yelled, desperate now, wincing as his hair whipped into his eyes and sharp snowflakes stung his cheeks and forehead. There wasn’t time to look, to search. The temperature was well below freezing, a few more minutes and it wouldn’t matter- they’d both be dead. “Lotor,” Shiro said, weaker now, his teeth chattering.

He thought he heard a groan to his right and turned to see a deep rut in the snow. He struggled forward, shaking. Yes- it was him. Lotor was sprawled out in a snow-drift and Shiro had no time to worry if he was dead. He knelt down to pick the Galra up and struggled to turn and walk back towards the ship, fighting the biting wind. He had to sling Lotor’s unconscious body over his shoulder while he climbed back into the hangar bay, using his Galra arm to rip hand-holds into the warped metal so he could get back inside. It felt like ages, struggling for every inch of ground until he was at the door to the corridor.

The access panel wasn’t responding, the door was jammed so he had to force it open, yelling with the exertion. He used the last of his strength to close the door behind them and collapsed in the suddenly quiet hall next to Lotor’s body. He gave himself exactly three seconds to rest before pulling himself up and pressing shaking fingers to Lotor’s neck, trying to find a pulse. A tense moment passed and then- yes. He exhaled a shuddering breath. Lotor was still alive.

Shiro had no way of knowing how badly he was hurt, not yet. All he knew was that he needed to keep moving. With the insulated outer layer of the ship ruptured this hallway would slowly begin to cool until it reached equilibrium with the outside temperature. They had to move to a more central part of the ship, and quickly.

He was feeling dizzy, shaky, but he forced himself onwards, picking Lotor up before making his way back to the living quarters. After a split second’s deliberation he decided to go to Lotor’s chambers, remembering that the man had more blankets in his room than Shiro did. He’d been planning on looking for medical supplies but he was suddenly so tired, so cold. Lotor was like a furnace and Shiro fell to the bed beside him, pressing close to his side before passing out at last.

 

* * *

 

Shiro woke with a gasp, disoriented in the darkness. He fumbled and shuddered with relief when his left hand connected with Lotor’s body, warm beside him. He was still alive, they both were. Shiro sat up, groaning as he activated his Galra arm to get a bit of light. Lotor was breathing unevenly next to him, the blankets stained with blood from his hands. 

Shiro looked around until he saw the lanterns by the bed and flicked their switches to turn them on. He let the light of the Galra arm fade before he turned his attention back to Lotor.

“Hey,” he said, shaking him gently. “Lotor?”  
  
Lotor groaned, eyebrows drawing down until he slowly opened his eyes.

Shiro laughed a little with relief, although it was more of a sharper-than-usual exhale of breath than a real laugh. “Hey,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Lotor breathed out. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro said. “I think the engine exploded.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” Lotor said quietly, closing his eyes.

“Hey, stay with me,” Shiro said, giving him another shake. He waited until Lotor was looking at him again before he spoke. “Do you have medical supplies here?”

“Yes,” Lotor managed, “in the box, under the table.”

“Ok,” Shiro said. “Stay awake, keep talking.” 

“What should I say?” Lotor asked, sounding weaker than before.

“I don’t care, anything.” Shiro found the box easily and brought it back to the bed.

“I failed,” Lotor said, voice shaking.

“Not that,” Shiro said sternly. “You did the best you could, and now we just have to move forward. We’ll get through this.”

He found a bottle of disinfectant and used a bit of gauze to clean Lotor’s palms. He was almost glad there was so little light because the damage was bad. His right palm was severely burned and blistered, the left was marked by deep cuts that had thankfully mostly scabbed over. Lotor endured the treatment stoically as Shiro carefully wrapped his hands in bandages.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Shiro asked.

“I don’t know,” Lotor said. “Everything hurts.”

“Ok,” Shiro said carefully. “Can I see?”

Lotor blushed in the darkness, looking away. “I don’t think I can-” he said, holding up his bandaged hands.

“Ok,” Shiro said. “Just- ok. I’m going to- uh. I’m going to look. Ok?”

“...Alright,” Lotor said at last.

Shiro started by pulling off Lotor’s boots, then reached over to the zipper of Lotor’s flight suit, trying to telegraph his intentions well in advance in an attempt to put the Galra at ease. Slowly he peeled Lotor out of his clothes, pulling his switchblade out eventually to cut the garments off him. 

Lotor’s breath came shallow and nervous but he didn’t protest as Shiro stripped him. Shiro blushed as he reached Lotor’s waist, was careful to leave his undergarments intact if only to save both of them from the painful intimacy of it all.

“Are you ok?” Shiro asked at last as he leaned back to take in the damage. There were a few minor burns on Lotor’s right shoulder and arm, but for the most part it was just vicious bruising covering his torso and thighs.

“Yes,” Lotor said, but he still refused to meet Shiro’s eyes.

“It’s not too bad,” Shiro reassured him, “is there something in here I can use for burns? Something for pain?”

“The green jar.”

“Ok,” Shiro said. When he opened the jar the smell of something very close to mint filled the room, the bit of normalcy made Shiro smile tightly. He applied the salve as gently as he could, not sure if Lotor was shivering from the pain or something else. When he was finished he sat back and covered the Galra with the blanket again.

“Thank you,” Lotor said quietly. “Are you hurt? You have a cut-” he reached out to brush the hair back from Shiro’s forehead. Shiro shivered, pulling back.

“Yeah, I’m-” he swallowed. “I’ll go check. Thanks.” He stood shakily, grabbing the salve and a lantern before making his way into the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself. He stood there, catching his breath for a long moment before he looked up into the mirror. His mind was racing, he was shaking with a jumbled mix of panic, adrenaline, and desire. It was crazy to be aroused in such a dire situation, but maybe not. 

If he only had one day left to live he couldn’t think of any better way to spend it than getting lost in Lotor’s body, his mouth, sinking his hands in the man’s hair and- Shiro shook his head to clear it. This wasn’t going to be the end for him. He hadn’t escaped from a Galra prison- twice!- and survived head-on battles with Zarkon, Sendak, and even Haggar just to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on one thing at a time. He wasn’t hurt too badly, he’d gotten off far better than he’d had any right to, considering. He put salve on the cut on his forehead, the bruises over his chest, and the pain faded immediately, leaving behind only a cool tingling sensation. He took another deep breath before heading back into the main room.

“Still awake?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lotor said. He was sitting up now, bare torso exposed as he held his arms wrapped around his knees. He was shivering, his hair a sooty mess. Shiro felt the urge to cover him up, make sure he was warm, safe. He didn’t think Lotor would take kindly to that sentiment at the moment. He seemed distant and Shiro wondered if he might be in shock after what had happened. That, more than the lost engine, the dead ship, the blizzard outside, was what worried him. He needed Lotor with him - he couldn’t do this on his own.  
  
“Okay, good,” Shiro said, trying to force determination into his voice, trying to keep them moving forward. “We need to figure out a plan.”  
  
Lotor sighed bitterly. “What’s the point,” he muttered.

“Stop that,” Shiro said sharply. “We’re not giving up. I’m sure you’ve been in worse situations than this, I know I have. There’s always something.”

There was a long moment of silence. “You’re right,” Lotor said at last, and Shiro was relieved to hear a steely undercurrent to his words.

“Good,” he said and sat down on the edge of the bed, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders to stave off the chill. “So- how fucked are we?”

Lotor laughed, surprised. “Pretty fucked,” he admitted, looking up. “Without the engine, we can’t take off. We can’t recharge the battery coils, leaving us only with residual power. That’ll last us three quintants, at most. And with the bulkhead ruptured, the ship will start to cool down quickly, rendering most of the systems unusable either way.”

“What about the other engine?”

“I was being serious when I said it was just fixed enough to run the water pump. It’s too damaged, it won’t be of any use to us.”

“Alright, so what do we do?”

“From now on we operate only out of the living quarters,” Lotor said. He sounded more confident now and Shiro found himself relaxing despite himself. “The living quarters are insulated, have extra layers of protection. Don’t leave unless it’s necessary, try to keep the heat that’s left on this deck from dissipating. I have an emergency supply of rations and water here and in the cockpit, which should last us at least a movement, after which it won’t matter anyway.”

“Ok,” Shiro said, nodding. “What next?”  
  
“We have to get off this shithole,” Lotor said grimly. “But this ship is beyond repair now.”

“So it looks like we’ll have to find another one.”

“Right,” Lotor said. “I did extensive scans of this planet when I first crash-landed. It’s completely uninhabited. But maybe we can get a ship to come to us.”

“Do we have comms?” Shiro asked. “My team is still out there, if we could get a message out-”

Lotor shook his head. “This sector is heavily patrolled by Galra. They’re looking for me and they know the comm signature of this ship. If they intercept the signal they’ll send a fleet and then we won’t stand a chance.”

“Can we encrypt the signal somehow?”

“I don’t have that kind of technology here,” Lotor said sadly. “Ten thousand year old ship, remember?”

“Damn,” Shiro said. But he was feeling hopeful all the same. Now that he and Lotor were working together he felt like anything was possible. 

“Tell me, how exactly did you end up here?” Lotor asked, turning towards him. “I never found a ship - just you, lying in the snow while I was out on a recon mission.”

They were on to something now and Shiro couldn’t help but grin. “I stole a fighter from the cruiser I was being held captive on. I crash landed here.”

“That sounds promising,” Lotor said slowly. “If we find what’s left of the ship, the communications console- we can route the distress signal through the fighter’s systems. The call will appear to be coming from a single crashed fighter, important enough to send someone to investigate, certainly, but not important enough to send more than a few sentries.”  
  
“We can take them out and steal their ship,” Shiro finished.

“Exactly,” Lotor smiled.

Shiro smiled back. There was hope, no matter how slim. “We should rest now and go first thing in the morning, once it’s light out.” 

“Agreed,” Lotor said. 

Plans made, they fell into an awkward silence. Shiro ran a hand through his disheveled hair. After everything that had happened, the last thing he wanted was to try and sleep in his own room, cold and alone. But Lotor had seemed so uncomfortable when Shiro had kissed him earlier that Shiro wasn’t sure he’d be welcome to stay. 

Lotor lay down, turning his back to Shiro as he burrowed into the blankets. Shiro figured that was as much of an invitation as he’d get, and at least Lotor didn’t seem to be kicking him out. He lay down without bothering to turn off the lanterns, the dim light a deep comfort in the otherwise dark situation. He pulled the covers over himself and shifted until he could just feel Lotor’s heat at his back before drifting off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Shiro woke shivering and looked up to see Lotor sitting on the edge of the bed dressed in a black jumpsuit. His hair seemed clean, or at least cleaner, and was once again pulled back into a neat braid. The thin fabric of his suit did nothing to conceal the powerful muscles of his back as he bent down, wrestling his legs into the thigh-high boots of his armored space suit. He must have sensed that something had changed because he looked back, meeting Shiro’s gaze. 

“Good morning,” he said, sounding like his old reserved self. There was no trace of his earlier despair, only steely determination. 

“Morning,” Shiro said. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Much better. And you?”

Shiro patted his face, his chest. He didn’t feel any pain, no trace of even a scratch on his forehead. “Same here,” he said in surprise. Had a simple salve really healed him literally overnight? If he thought about it, he guessed it could be possible. The Galra were significantly more advanced than humans in every way, it was only logical that would include medicine too.

“I think I found a space suit to fit you,” Lotor said, turning back to his task. “It will offer sufficient insulation to brave the weather. You should eat, make ready, and then we must go.” 

“Ok,” Shiro said, a little disoriented at Lotor’s all-business attitude but appreciating it all the same. He didn’t like to admit it but sometimes he missed the regimented life of the Garrison. Following a set schedule and the orders of his superiors made life so much simpler. While he’d risen to the challenge of his role as the head of Voltron, sometimes leadership weighted on him. It was nice to have someone else take command once in a while.

Shiro hurried through getting ready and ate quickly before he focused on putting on the outdated-looking Galra space suit. It fit well enough despite how clunky it seemed. When he was finished he turned to see Lotor wincing as he wrestled with his own suit, his bandaged hands shaking as he struggled.

“Here, let me help you,” Shiro said as he walked over, not giving Lotor the chance to refuse. Together they got Lotor ready and before long they were leaving the living quarters and venturing out of the relative warmth and through dark corridors.

Once they left the interior of the ship Shiro was surprised to see many of the surfaces were already gleaming with a thin sheen of ice. There were no more sparking panels, no more emergency lights. The power was drained from these areas, and if it wasn’t for the glowing detailing on Shiro’s and Lotor’s suits, they would have been walking through pitch black passages.

Everything was silent and still; it was odd to think these halls had been almost hospitable only a short few hours ago. Shiro followed Lotor down to a cargo bay and watched him pull a tarp off a sleek hoverbike. Lotor looked over it carefully before starting the engine, grinning briefly at Shiro as it powered up. 

“Do you know how to drive one of these?” he asked, his voice sounding tinny and far away through the speakers in Shiro’s helmet.

Shiro nodded, excited despite himself. Driving his hoverbike through the arid desert around the Garrison had been one of his favorite ways to spend his time before all this.

Lotor input a set of coordinates into the console and stepped back, waiting for the engine to cycle up. In the meantime he went over to the access panel at the bay door and tried to get it open. There was a loud metallic groan, a rapid tapping, then the door started rising slowly, letting in the bright daylight.

Shiro squinted more out of habit than necessity, the polarized visor of his helmet cutting most of the glare. It was still storming outside, though not nearly as badly as the first night he’d arrived on Lotor’s ship. 

“Let’s go,” Lotor said.

Shiro mounted the bike and waited for Lotor to get on behind him. It was impossible, but still he imagined he could feel Lotor’s heat at his back as he felt the Galra wrap his arms around Shiro’s waist. He looked down to the console and saw a rudimentary map pointing towards a mark.

“That’s where I found you,” Lotor explained behind him. “We’ll start there, and once we’re closer we can try locating the remains of your ship.”  
  
“Ready?” Shiro asked, experimentally revving the engine.

“Let’s go,” Lotor said.

Shiro flipped the accelerator on and maneuvered them slowly out of the bay. He couldn’t help flinching a little as they exited the ship and he was hit with a flurry of snowflakes but he didn’t feel the cold, the suit doing its job, and soon he found himself grinning. He hit the accelerator into a higher gear until they were speeding over icy snow drifts, a sensation something like flying.

Lotor’s arms were tight around his waist, their position surprisingly intimate. He could hear Lotor’s breathing faintly through the speakers in his helmet, the sound warped into something almost obscene. A flush rose to Shiro’s cheeks and he was glad Lotor couldn’t see his face. He leaned forward, gripping the controls of the bike tightly to try and get his mind back to the task at hand.

In less than half an hour they’d reached the mark on the map and Shiro brought the bike to a stop, looking around. He didn’t remember much from his crash landing other than tumbling down a hill. There was a ridge in front of them which he figured was where he’d fallen from so he carefully eased the hoverbike up the slope, hoping that some other landmark would jump out at him once they got to the top.

The landscape was stark and flat in all directions and his heart sank as he realized it had been storming for practically the entire time he’d been here. The wreckage of his stolen Galra fighter was no doubt covered in several feet of snow, maybe more. It would be totally buried, impossible to find on sight. 

“Does anything seem familiar?” Lotor asked.

“No,” Shiro said. “But I was in pretty bad shape after the crash, so I probably didn’t get very far. It’s got to be around here somewhere.”

“Hold on,” Lotor said. He let go of Shiro’s waist to fiddle with something on his gauntlet. “I’m getting a faint reading up ahead,” he said after a while. “Let’s go slow- forward mostly, but veer to the left.” 

“Got it,” Shiro said and started the bike again.

It was slow going for a while, Shiro keeping an eye out for anything familiar while Lotor gave him vague instructions. Finally they came upon a wide uneven pit in the snow and Shiro found himself smiling.

“This has to be it,” he said. “The wreckage was hot, it must have melted the snow and caused these pits.”  
  
“Let’s see,” Lotor said, climbing off the bike. He did something with his gauntlet again and Shiro heard an optimistic-sounding beep through his helmet. “It’s here,” Lotor said through the comms.

“Where?” Shiro asked.

He ended up spending the next two hours digging through snow while Lotor hung out on the hoverbike, raising his injured palms up defensively whenever Shiro made a show of being tired.

“Excellent work,” he said once Shiro had lugged the fighter’s communication console, a black box roughly the size of a car battery that weighed more than any object of that size had any right to, onto the back of the bike.

The storm picked up on their return to the ship and by the time they made it into the cargo hold the sky was almost entirely dark. After shutting down the hoverbike Lotor pulled out its still-warm battery pack, taking it with them back to his quarters. Shiro was too tired to ask. 

He lay down on the bed with a groan, his entire body aching. He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew Lotor was shaking him awake.

“What is it?” Shiro asked, frowning. Lotor looked freshly showered, his hair falling loose down his back. He was wearing his characteristic flight-suit, but this too seemed clean.

“I thought you may like to wash while the battery’s still hot.”

“Yeah, of course,” Shiro grinned. “Is getting a hot shower working always your first priority in an emergency?” he teased, surprisingly charmed at the thought.

“Definitely the second priority,” Lotor answered with a smile. “First I linked up the fighter’s comms with the ship’s systems, it’s calibrating now. It should be ready by morning, but in the meantime I prefer not to wallow in my own filth.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Shiro said, standing with a groan. “I am fully appreciative.”

“Just through there,” Lotor pointed him to the small en-suite.

He’d jerry rigged the hoverbike’s battery into the plumbing somehow. The water in the small shower cubicle was barely more than lukewarm, but even so Shiro took his time scrubbing himself clean. He hadn’t realized how much soot he’d been covered in from the explosion, not to mention he’d worked up a fairly musky odor after hours of digging through the snow.

At the back of his mind he’d been expecting Lotor to have a comical amount of hair products but was disappointed to see one rather ragged bar of soap and one bottle of something that may have been shampoo but smelled too acidic for Shiro to risk using it. 

He dried off with a ridiculously fluffy towel before getting dressed in a fresh flight suit Lotor had left for him.

“Cold dinner, I’m afraid,” Lotor said once Shiro returned to the main room. He had a few ration packs laid out over the table.

“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” Shiro said as he sat down. He already missed the relative warmth of the shower. The ship was quickly losing heat, even on the residential deck. They ate silently, each lost in their own thoughts.

They’d spent so long in stasis, trapped with each other on a crashed ship, and now it was all coming to an end. They’d either escape the planet tomorrow or find out they’d die here, which would probably sour the mood for the day or so they’d have before they froze to death. Either way, this odd oasis of peace was coming to an end and Shiro found that thought to be bittersweet. He wanted to go home, of course he did, but he knew he’d miss these quiet days with Lotor all the same.

Maybe Lotor was having similar thoughts, because once they finished eating he proposed they play a Galra card game despite the late hour. Shiro accepted gratefully, jumping at any excuse to make this night last just a little longer. They played for half an hour or so, but Shiro’s heart wasn’t really in it.

“Is something wrong?” Lotor asked when Shiro put down his cards with a small sigh.

“This is our last night here,” Shiro said, looking up into Lotor’s eyes. “I was hoping to spend it... a little differently.” Slowly, he reached out to put his hand over Lotor’s.

Lotor’s eyes widened as he understood what Shiro was getting at and then he looked away, wincing. “You don’t have to do this, Shiro. I didn’t bring you here so you would- I mean, you don’t... _owe_ me anything.”

Shiro stared, wide-eyed as it dawned on him what Lotor was getting at, why he’d seemed upset before when Shiro had kissed him.

“I think we’ve both been through too much to waste time on misunderstandings,” Shiro said slowly. “So how about instead of assuming what the other person is thinking, let’s just get it out in the open.”

Lotor stared up at him, as if what Shiro was proposing was an entirely foreign concept to him. 

“I’ll start,” Shiro said, tightening his hand carefully over Lotor’s. “I want you. Not because I think I owe you anything, because that’s not how I pay back people who save my life, and because I think we might be even now. But I just- I want you.”

Lotor’s eyes were wide and even in the darkness Shiro could tell he was blushing.

“Now it’s your turn,” Shiro urged gently.

“I want-” Lotor broke off, licking his lips nervously as he looked away. “I want you, too,” he said at last.

“Was that really so difficult?” Shiro murmured as he leaned closer and pressed his lips to Lotor’s. The Galra leaned into him with a soft sigh, his lips pliant and warm. He slid his hand up Lotor’s arm to the back of his neck, carding through his hair gently. After a long moment he pulled away and stood from the table. Lotor was looking up at him, eyebrows drawn together in concern. The concern vanished when Shiro pulled him up out of his chair and into another kiss, their bodies pressing fully against each other now. 

Lotor was taller than him and having to turn his face up into a kiss was a novelty Shiro found himself enjoying. He couldn’t help smiling against the Galra’s lips.

“Is something wrong?” Lotor asked, that concern returning in an instant. How could someone so beautiful be so easily overtaken by the thought he wasn’t wanted?

“Nothing at all,” Shiro laughed before pulling them over to the bed.

They tumbled into the sheets easily and Shiro found himself taking control, sliding his lips against Lotor’s and smoothing his human hand down the man’s chest, his side. Slowly, he could feel Lotor relaxing against him and, emboldened, he deepened their kiss into something more heated and slick, nipping at Lotor’s lower lip.

Lotor shuddered and tightened his fingers over Shiro’s shoulders, the last traces of doubt finally melting away.

Shiro fumbled at the zip of Lotor’s flight suit until it was open down to his waist and he was shoving his hand up under the tank top Lotor wore underneath. The Galra’s skin was shockingly hot, smooth and soft over rippling muscle.

“Take this off,” Shiro said as he pulled back, wrestling with his own clothes as he watched Lotor sit up a little to pull his arms out of his flight suit, blushing and shyly looking away. Shiro practically ripped off his own tank top, leaving his flight suit bunched around his waist, before he leaned back in, helping Lotor with his shirt.

He bit his lip as he ran his eyes down Lotor’s chest and then followed his gaze with shaking fingers. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

“Shut up,” Lotor bit out and grabbed Shiro by the back of the neck, pulling him back in.

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro whispered against his lips. He couldn’t stop touching Lotor’s chest, his stomach. The feeling of Lotor’s powerful body quivering beneath him was intoxicating.

“Stop it,” Lotor muttered but he was smiling now and Shiro was going to count that as a win. He was impossibly hard as he shifted to press his still clothed erection up against Lotor’s hip, thrusting a little to relieve some of the pressure as he slid his hand down into Lotor’s pants. He gasped at the first touch, Lotor’s cock was _hot_ , so hot Shiro almost pulled away in surprise. 

Lotor made a little sound at the back of his throat and Shiro tightened his fingers instead, stroking him experimentally a few times and watching as Lotor bit his lip to hold in a gasp. That wouldn’t do.

He pressed forward, kissing Lotor to distract him as he started a slow rhythm. Lotor moaned into his mouth, a sound that made Shiro’s cock jump and he pressed a little harder against Lotor’s hip, grinding against him. As he kept going Lotor shut his eyes, raking his fingers down Shiro’s back. 

“Here, lift up your hips,” Shiro said, moving back to pull Lotor’s remaining clothes down and off his legs. He considered taking off his flight suit too, but it seemed like too much of a hassle to be worth stopping for.  He didn’t waste any time before he dove down to take Lotor’s cock in his mouth, reveling in Lotor’s bit-off moans, the way his fingers dug into Shiro’s shoulders. Shiro closed his eyes as he started a slow rhythm, pressing Lotor’s hips against the mattress.

Lotor wasn’t so shy about his moans any more and each one sent a spike of electricity through Shiro that went straight to his groin until he was shifting restlessly against the sheets, trying to focus on Lotor’s cock in his mouth but finding his movements growing increasingly sloppy.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled away to press his face against Lotor’s stomach while he shoved his hand into his open pants to grip the base of his cock tightly, trying to catch his breath. 

“Shiro,” Lotor gasped out, and Shiro looked up to see the Galra looking at him, eyes dark in the lantern light. He crawled up Lotor’s body to kiss him, movements uncoordinated, while Lotor clutched at his neck and hair. Their cocks slid together and Shiro shifted to take them both in hand, Lotor’s skin scalding hot against his own.

“Oh fuck,” Shiro moaned as Lotor arched up against him, slipping his tongue into Shiro’s mouth. “I want to fuck you,” Shiro said at last. “But I’ve never-”

“You’ve never had sex?” Lotor asked, confused.

Shiro huffed out a laugh. “Not with an alien, no. I want to- if that’s ok-”

“Yes,” Lotor grinned, eyes glittering in the darkness.

“How do I-” 

“Alright, just-” Lotor leaned away to search through his bedside table for a moment before he pulled out a small bottle of what Shiro assumed was lube. “Here,” he said, pressing the bottle into Shiro’s hands.

“Ok, how-” Shiro said, already opening the bottle and accidentally splashing too much oil over the fingers of his left hand, staining the bed while he was at it. The oil smelled slightly minty and was cold to the touch. Shiro rubbed his fingers together in surprise. “It’s- cold?” he said.

Lotor laughed. “Yeah. Yes. It- helps. Is that ok?”

“Yeah,” Shiro grinned. “Just, how-”

“Here,” Lotor shifted so he was lying on his side, drew his knee up and reached for Shiro’s hand, guiding it behind his cock. Ah- this, at least, was something Shiro was familiar with. He smiled into Lotor’s shoulder as he slowly pressed a finger inside him. Lotor moaned quietly and Shiro had to shut his eyes against the impossible heat of it. He could see now why the cooling lube, or whatever it was, could be helpful.

Lotor shivered as Shiro started to slowly pump into him, breathing heavily against his shoulder. Lotor was relaxed beneath him, arching eagerly into his touch. Shiro added a second finger and it slid in easily. He watched Lotor’s hands clench into fists over the sheets, wished he could see Lotor’s face to better judge the effect he was having on the other man. He shifted a bit so he could use his Galra arm to brush the hair back from Lotor’s neck and kissed the damp skin there.

“You don’t have to be so- gentle,” Lotor said between gasps.

“Oh?” Shiro murmured against his neck, speeding up. “Like this?” he curled his fingers a little, wondering if Galra had prostates the way humans did.

“Yes- ah! Just-” Lotor shuddered against him, arching his back to get closer.

Shiro kept up the pace for a few minutes, enjoying the way Lotor twitched and gasped, and then took a chance and added a third finger. He had to bite his lip and shut his eyes at the way Lotor moaned and threw his head back in pleasure. His own arousal was briefly forgotten in the face of Lotor writhing on his fingers, gripping him so tight.

“I can’t-” Lotor gasped.

“Can’t what?” Shiro murmured into his pointed ear, biting at his earlobe. Lotor gasped and jerked beneath him so Shiro did it again, and then allowing himself to follow a half-known whim, pressed his tongue to Lotor’s shoulder and dragged it up his neck to his ear. The sound Lotor made was closer to a yell than a moan and Shiro grinned.

“I can’t- I can’t wait,” Lotor managed. “Please- _Shiro_ -”

“How do you want-”

“I don’t _care_ , just-”

“Ok,” Shiro said and bit at Lotor’s ear once more just to hear him cry out again before pulling his fingers out and wrapping his Galra arm around Lotor’s waist, yanking him easily to his knees. Lotor shuddered and pushed a pillow under his hips while Shiro poured some more of the cool oil over his cock.

“Ready?” he asked, bending down to get into the right position.

“Come _on_ ,” Lotor gasped, shifting his hips upwards.

It was so easy then, to just- push inside. Shiro groaned as he guided himself into Lotor’s tight heat. They both gasped at it and Shiro had to close his eyes and press his face to Lotor’s shoulder. He was impossibly tight, impossibly hot, even with the cooling oil. He braced his Galra arm against the bed, gripping Lotor’s hip with his other hand. He needed the pause, needed to center himself if he wanted to have any chance at lasting beyond a few desperate minutes. 

“Ah-” Lotor breathed, shifting against him. Clearly he wasn’t willing to wait. He moved a little, thrusting back against Shiro, and then brought his hand down to touch himself. “Fuck,” he groaned and Shiro found himself sitting back, pulling Lotor with him.

“Go on then,” he said, watching Lotor’s back muscles working just under the skin as the Galra stroked himself. He could lose himself in Lotor’s body, he knew he’d be welcome to thrust into Lotor blindly until he came, but now he knew he wanted something else. “Fuck yourself,” Shiro said, running his Galra arm down Lotor’s side until he was gripping the man’s hip.

Lotor moaned, arching his back a little, and spread his legs farther to take Shiro in deeper.

“Come on,” Shiro said breathlessly. For a brief moment he thought Lotor would protest, but then he just just braced himself against the bed and started moving his hips in a smooth rolling motion and Shiro had to shut his eyes against the onslaught. Maybe he said something else, maybe Lotor did too, but at that point he was too far gone to register any of it.

The heat of Lotor’s body warred with the cooling lube until all Shiro felt was the impossible pressure of it all, the bliss of Lotor’s body so tight around his cock. His heart was beating loud in his ears but he heard Lotor’s shuddering moans all the same and finally he couldn’t take it anymore, he bent down and started thrusting in earnest, encouraged by Lotor’s breathless gasps.

“Please- Ah- ah!” Lotor was gasping, shaking apart beneath him, stroking himself furiously now.

“Oh, fuck,” Shiro found himself moaning, tangling his Galra arm in Lotor’s hair to push his face down into the bed sheets.

Lotor moaned and grew quiet as his body tensed, close to his release.

“Just- _fuck-_ ” Shiro was gasping, not knowing what he was talking about anymore. He tried to hold back, tried to last just a little longer, shut his eyes against the pressure. His hips took on a stuttering rhythm as he tried and failed to slow down. He only just had the presence of mind to move his Galra hand down to grip the sheets so he wouldn’t hurt Lotor if he lost control.

Lotor’s body spasmed beneath him, shaking as he came, and finally Shiro let himself go too. He thrust a few more times before his orgasm whited out his vision and he found himself gasping against Lotor’s back, jerking unevenly into him.

Slowly he came back to himself and pulled away to see he’d left a hand-shaped burn mark in the blankets. He dropped to the bed next to Lotor, who’d let himself fall into the sheets as soon as Shiro pulled out of him.

He turned his head, still breathing hard, to see Lotor peering up at him, head resting on his folded arms, cheeks flushed.

“We could have been doing this the whole time,” Lotor said mournfully and Shiro laughed. He smoothed his hand down Lotor’s side just to watch the Galra shiver. He finally realized he still had his pants on so he kicked them off and grabbed a blanket to drape over the both of them.

“We have time,” Shiro said.

“I don’t how humans do this sort of thing, but I don’t think I have the strength to go again any time soon.”

“No, I meant-” Shiro broke off, smiling. “When we get out of here, come with me.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lotor asked slowly. “I’m-” he winced a little, pausing, “I’m not particularly popular among the rebels. Or the Blades. Or… anyone, really.”

“You saved my life,” Shiro said. “So I’d say you have one fan, at least. It’ll be a little awkward for a while, but my team will understand.”

“I’ll… consider it,” Lotor said at last.

“Alright,” Shiro said. “Consider it.” He pressed a soft kiss to Lotor’s shoulder before burrowing into the blankets. He had a good feeling that Lotor was going to agree.

Shiro briefly let himself imagine the future, the happy look on Keith’s face when Shiro returned, the tight hug he’d no doubt get from Hunk before everyone else piled in. They’d be wary of Lotor at first, but soon enough they’d accept him just as they’d accepted Keith’s Galra heritage. Together they would defeat Zarkon, end the war, bring peace to the universe. They would return to Earth after, maybe take a break for a bit.

Shiro smiled and shifted closer to Lotor, pressing his face into the Galra’s thick hair. He smelled of soap and sweat and a bit like the minty lube, and he leaned back against Shiro easily. An impossible sense of fondness rose in Shiro- not _love_ , not yet- but he could see it approaching, just at the edge of the horizon.

 

* * *

 

The switched-out communicator trick went just as planned. A Galra fighter arrived an hour after they’d turned on the distress signal and Shiro and Lotor easily took out the two sentries within. They left the planet in the stolen fighter and Shiro felt his heart soaring as they broke through the storm clouds and finally saw the solar system’s central star, shining brilliantly in the distance. He shared a brief victorious glance with Lotor. 

It was time to go home.

 

_fin?_

  


**~~~Epilogue~~~**

 

“Shiro?” Lotor asked carefully. The Black Paladin didn’t move, brows furrowed as he dozed in the co-pilot’s seat. Lotor reached out to give the man’s knee a shake and got no response. The sedatives he’d slipped into the human’s lunch had finally kicked in.

He turned back to the controls and altered course to take them back to his cruiser, hidden in the shadow of a nearby planet. He landed in the hangar and stood to see Acxa waiting to greet him.

“Welcome back, Prince Lotor,” she said, inclinining her head respectfully.

“It’s good to be back,” he said, climbing down out of the fighter. He looked up at the cockpit where he could still see Shiro passed out in the seat. He felt a moment of regret pass through him and then pushed it away. “Wipe him,” he said. “Prepare him for cycle seven.”

“Again?” Acxa asked, frowning. “Are you sure this is a good use of our time? After six cycles he still hasn’t given you any intel on Voltron, or the other rebels.”

“Information isn’t the point,” Lotor said. “With each cycle his subconscious learns to trust me more and more. That’s what we’ll need to infiltrate the Paladins and gain control of Voltron.”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, but clearly wasn’t convinced.

Lotor watched as his sentries took the Black Paladin out of the cockpit and put him on a stretcher, ready to return him to the lab.

It was working, of that he had no doubt. During the first two cycles the man had taken Lotor’s offer of returning into the blizzard, cycle three had Shiro glaring at him silently the entire time they were trapped on the ship. It wasn’t until cycle four that they’d even had a conversation and now cycle six had Shiro kissing him, seducing him into bed.

He wondered if maybe this was enough, if he should just return the man to the other Paladins and have done with it. But their closeness on the ship had felt- real, at times. Lotor wanted to experience it again, just once more, needed to soak in that warmth so he could have something good to remember in the centuries to come.

He pressed his suddenly shaking fingers to his lips and closed his eyes, sick with himself. Was this really what he’d become? A man pathetically scraping for stolen shreds of kindness?

“Stop,” he said, trying to instill a sense of command into his voice. The sentries paused, looking up in confusion.

Lotor hadn’t expected the way Shiro had reacted to him this time and Lotor had gotten caught up in the moment. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it all again, knowing now what may happen. It was too cruel, to both of them.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said to the sentries. “Wipe him, then send him home.”

He turned and left for his chambers, not allowing himself a last look at the Black Paladin, at Shiro. He couldn’t stop thinking about the previous night, the memory like a sweet ache deep in his bones.

There were things he needed to do, responsibilities weighing on him. But that would all have to wait. He could give himself one night to rest, to breathe, and to wish things could be different.

 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [barbitone](http://barbitone.tumblr.com/) \- NSFW art at [barbitone-afterdark](https://barbitone-afterdark.tumblr.com/)


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